


sometimes we meet by chance (but sometimes it's fate)

by tritone



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Before the Maze (Maze Runner), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:58:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16766509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tritone/pseuds/tritone
Summary: Thomas is 5 when he meets the people running the W.I.C.K.E.D. headquarters.He is 10 when he meets Newt (and the rest of Group A) for the first time.He is 16 when they meet for the first time again.





	sometimes we meet by chance (but sometimes it's fate)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i know i don't know you (but there's somewhere i've seen you before)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2643461) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 
  * Inspired by [All We Have is Now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6298480) by [xindesum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xindesum/pseuds/xindesum). 



**(age 5)**

Stephen is five when the people in the weird man-jammies take him from his home. Chancellor Anderson tells him he’s special; he tells him that he’s one of the chosen ones. Stephen thinks that this is fine, except for the fact that they keep calling him Thomas, and he’s really not sure why. He keeps telling them that his name is Stephen, but they won’t listen. 

_Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. My name is Stephen._

The men in the dark green jumpsuits just usher him from room to room, test to test, and ask him all kinds of questions that he sometimes knows the answer to, sometimes doesn’t, calling him Thomas all the while.

Still, Stephen resists. He resists, until Randall shows up. It’s all downhill after that, and the pain scrambles his memory. 

_Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. My name is Thomas._

**(age 6)**

Thomas keeps asking for a friend to play with. Randall is nice sometimes, but he never lets Thomas see anyone. He has heard the adults whisper when he sneaks out to lurk in the hallways, and he has learned that there are other kids here. A bunch of them, if what they say is true. Thomas likes the sound of that, but for all his begging and tantrum throwing, they never give in. 

A kind lady always delivers his meals to him, but he can never convince her to stay for longer than a minute or two, and she refuses to tell him her name. The one time he convinced her to stay with him just long enough for him to draw her a picture, they get found out, and Thomas isn’t quite sure, but he thinks he got her in trouble. 

When the morning rolls around and it is time for the lady to bring him his breakfast, she is a few minutes later than usual. When he hears his door unlock he feels relieved, but a grumpy man brings his food in instead. 

Thomas never sees the lady again, and the man never says a word to him. 

The man is soon replaced by Dr. Paige, who initially has compassion behind her eyes. Thomas likes her. When she answers his questions honestly, it makes him believe that maybe what they’ve been telling him all along is true; maybe he is as important as they say. 

**(age 7)**

Thomas meets a bossy girl that is about his age, named Teresa. She has been here as long as he has, but she says that the only reason they’re interacting is so Thomas will stop asking everyone for someone to play with. It hurts Thomas’ feelings that she doesn’t seem to want to be his friend, but after they’re forced to interact a few more times, Teresa seems to grow more fond of him, and Thomas forgets why he was upset with her in the first place. 

They’re being taught the same material separately, but once they start to get along they’re allowed to do their homework together. At first, Thomas tries to ignore the homework and convince Teresa to play, but he learns very quickly that if he sits quietly next to her until she gets all of her work done she is more likely to participate in his games. Soon, he even turns completing his own work into a game, trying to race Teresa to finish his assignments before she finishes hers. He never tells her that, of course, because he’s worried that his “childish antics,” as she calls them, will push away his only friend here. 

**(age 8)**

They’ve learned all about the other kids here at the compound. This includes Aris and Rachel, two of the other important children that he and Teresa have only met a few times. It might seem a little weird to Thomas, thinking about all the kids here as subjects, but he’s learned to just do whatever the adults want. 

He memorizes all their names and ages. He reads the adults observations about them and memorizes those as well. And when he memorizes all of those things, he is allowed to start observing them. 

He and Teresa observe a group of boys, Group A, while Aris and Rachel observe a group of girls, Group B. The boys and the girls never interact, and similarly he and Teresa hardly ever interact with Aris and Rachel. Sometimes there are group dinners, when they all sit down at a big table with a bunch of the adults and listen to the adults discuss important things, but usually, this is just how it was. 

•••

He watches the boys tumble and play; they play cards, set up races, organize ball games, and have a sense of community. Some of the boys have naturally stepped up to smooth over arguments or take charge of making fair teams and fairly judging the games; they are told that these are the leaders. It seems to Thomas like there are multiple leaders, though, and if there are only going to be two mazes, Thomas doesn’t see why they’d need so many. He doesn’t ask, though; he’s learned that if he actually gets an answer to any of the questions that he asks, it usually isn’t one he likes. 

As he watches the boys, Thomas begins to feel lonely once more. There’s an itching in his bones to join in the fun, but when he looks over at Teresa and sees only her serious expression, he knows that she does not feel the same. 

In all his time here, Thomas isn’t sure he’s ever felt so lonely.

•••

They show Thomas and Teresa the caverns for the mazes. Or, rather, they show them one, and tell them about the other. It’s huge, and makes Thomas wonder about the size of W.I.C.K.E.D.’s compound in total. Maybe it’s bigger than even Thomas and Teresa know. 

They’re informed of how important what they’re learning is to the maze trials, and how they’ll be taking bigger and bigger roles in setting up the trials as time goes on. 

Thomas likes the sound of being important, but he’s not so sure he knows how to do all the things they seem to want him to. Even though he knows he’ll learn it all, and quickly, there’s a voice in the back of his mind, one he’s trying desperately to suppress, that says that something going on here is horribly, morally wrong. 

**(age 10)**

Thomas hasn’t seen Chancellor Anderson since he was 6, but the Chancellor himself comes to inform them of the next big plan. Thomas would be integrated in with the boys, and Rachel would be integrated in with the girls. 

Thomas’ heart leaps up into his throat; he wants nothing more than to join in with the boys he sees playing games and having fun. He tries to keep his excitement in check, though, and he glances at the other three kids. He expects excitement from Rachel, and disappointment from Aris and Teresa, but he gets...nothing. They’re looking at the Chancellor with such blank faces that Thomas is worried he misheard the news, but he and Rachel are ushered out of the makeshift conference room to pack whatever things they want to bring with them while Teresa and Aris stay behind to discuss what their roles would be going forward. 

•••

One of the men in the dark green jumpsuits escorts him through a complicated twist of hallways before opening a giant metal door, giving Thomas a rough shove through it, and slamming it shut behind him. 

Suddenly Thomas feels much less confident; for once there’s no one to point him in the right direction, no one to tell him where to go. 

Suddenly he remembers the information he was forced to memorize before coming here; who was in which room, which rooms had empty beds, and the schedule the boys were made to loosely follow. 

He counted the doors on his way down the hallway, listing the residents of each under his breath as he went. There are only two rooms that have empty beds, and Thomas was able to easily decide which he wanted to stay in. 

He gets to room five and takes a deep breath, then he pushes the door open and steps inside. 

What he steps into is absolute chaos. It takes his brain a few seconds to understand what is happening, but slowly the scene before him unfolds. 

There is a tall, dark-skinned boy and a small, blond boy hiding behind a strategically balanced mattress on the floor. Thomas recognizes them as Albert and Isaac, but he doesn’t give it much thought before his focus is shifted to the middle of the room, where an Asian boy and a bigger dark-skinned boy are using gloves filled with water that have single holes poked in the fingers like water guns. Thomas recognizes them, too, to be Minho and Sigmund. In the corner behind those two is a single, grumpy boy, who Thomas can easily pick out as Galileo, who never seems to have fun like the other boys and is the first and only to make his displeasure of being here known. 

Thomas hasn’t even taken a step into the room when the boys yell, “Stranger! Attack!” and turn their gloves-turned-guns to face him. Thomas is positive that he is about to get soaked, but instead Albert jumps up from behind his mattress fort to intervene. 

“Cease fire!” Albert was one of WICKED’s natural leaders, Thomas remembers, and although they were enemies a second prior, the two boys stop a couple steps away from Thomas. 

He knows all the boys have been told about his arrival, so quickly he blurts out his spoon-fed speech. “Hi! My name is Thomas. I’ve been working with the adults here, but I’ve completed all my individual testing, so they sent me here to participate in their group testing. I was informed that this room had a spare bed and was assigned to stay here with you.” 

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on endlessly to Thomas, but it was most likely only a second or two before Galileo gave a chuckle that was possibly unkind. “Who let this shank in?” He asked, looking to Albert for an answer. 

“Gally,” Albert reprimanded, a hint of warning in his tone. Galileo- Gally- let out a huff and curtly exited the room, knocking Thomas’ shoulder with his own as he went. Albert sighed and shook his head before extending a hand and friendly smile to Thomas. “Sorry about that. Gally is, well, Gally, I guess. It’s nice to meet you Thomas. I’m Alby, and these two over here are Minho and Siggy. That one over there is Isaac.” He nodded to each of them respectively; the nicknames confused Thomas, but he kept his mouth shut. He was already an outsider, and calling them out on their lack of full names would make him seem weird. He shook Alby’s hand, though none of the other boys extended their hands to him, so he was forced to leave his hands dangling by his sides as the introductions went on, making him feel even more awkward. 

“Alby!” Isaac whined, finally leaving the shelter of the mattress and coming over to stand between Alby and Minho. Alby just laughed, leaving Thomas to look between the two boys with more confusion than he cared for. “It’s Newt, actually.” He seems very stubborn, standing as tall as he can make himself, but then he seems to shrink a little bit more. “Please?” 

“Newt,” Thomas repeats. The grin the boy gives him in return is practically blinding. 

“Alright Siggy, why don’t you get dried off before dinner? We’ve got to clean this place up so Thomas can make himself comfortable.” Alby gives Siggy a warm smile, and Siggy wanders off, mumbling something that resembles a “nice to meet you Thomas” as he goes. 

The first thing the boys do is put the spare mattress back on the bed, Thomas’ bed now, and Thomas watches the boys clean from where he sits with his feet dangling off the bed, a bit too high up to actually touch the floor. Newt and Minho keep getting distracted, finding fun objects to play with or accidentally bumping into each other which leads to them full-on wrestling on the floor until Alby reprimands them and they jump apart. Thomas is fascinated, though. Finally, he gets to be part of a group. 

•••

Teresa starts to figure out how mind communication between the two of them works, and this is how he starts to know what’s going on outside of Group A. 

He figures out how to use it too, soon after, but he’s not so sure he likes to. He’s not so sure he has a choice, either.

**(age 11)**

Whenever the boys have gotten too riled up and destructive, they get sent “outside” for the remainder of the day to let off steam. After the work that’s being done on the maze, Thomas isn’t really sure that they’re outside at all, but he loves the freedom all the same. 

On the day of Newt’s 13th birthday, they sing to him loudly, and they proceed to make enough of a ruckus that they’re allowed outside.

Since it’s Newt’s special day, all of the boys want to spend time with him, and Thomas isn’t positive, but he thinks the guilty anger that’s been lodged in his throat all day is a type of possessive jealousy. Most of the boys don’t pay Newt any mind; Thomas knows how wonderful he is, he’s known since day one, and they’ve been best friends ever since. 

That’s how he finds himself sitting by himself, away from the group, drawing some shapes in the dirt with a stick. He doodles an elaborate birthday drawing for Newt before he remembers that Newt is too busy for him today and grumpily erases it with a couple rough scrapes of his shoe. 

He knows that he’ll get in trouble later, if the Chancellor or any of the others find out that he’s isolated himself for the entire afternoon, but for now he’s content to let himself sulk. 

He’s not mad at Newt, not really, but more at himself for getting comfortable. Of course he isn’t always going to be the center of Newt’s attention, but some small part of him thought that maybe he could be. 

He doodles a little bit more, but finds himself getting bored; it’s a lot less fun when Thomas is by himself. 

He’s not sure how long he sits there for; when the other boys gather at some tables outside to eat for lunch he briefly joins them, but he can’t sit next to Newt, and he feels like an outsider once again, so he just goes back to his spot under the tree, unable to make himself stay and eat anything. 

He feels bad that he isn’t celebrating Newt’s birthday like the rest of them are, but he doesn’t think Newt has even noticed, so he doesn’t worry about it too much. As long as Newt’s having fun, that’s what Thomas thinks is important. 

Later that night, after Minho and Alby have fallen asleep, Thomas is still awake, trying to figure out why the events of the day made him so upset. Newt had been in and out of their room all night; currently, he was out of it, but Thomas could hear his laugh float down the hallway, so he would probably be back any minute. 

Sure enough, the door cracked open slowly a minute later, and Newt tiptoed in. Thomas sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes. He was grumpy all day, but he could at least be nice to Newt now, while he had him alone. 

Thomas watches as Newt trudges across the room and climbs into his bed. He wonders if Newt knows he is awake, but he figures he does. He is tired, and he finally feels guilty; Newt must be mad at him, and Thomas doesn’t blame him. 

Thomas watches as he pulls his blanket up to his chin and flip over to face the wall. He feels his heart drop into his stomach. So he does the only thing he can think to do- he gets out of bed, crosses the floor quietly in his socked feet until his stands by Newt’s bed. 

“Newt?” Thomas’ voice wavers, and he suddenly feels like he’s close to crying. He hears Newt sigh, and then roll over to face him. 

“Yeah, Tommy?” But Thomas doesn’t have the ability to speak; his throat has closed, his eyes have watered a little, and he wishes he had just stayed in bed. Newt sighs again, but his face softens, and he pushes himself backwards. “Come on up, then.” Thomas scrambles into the bed next to him before Newt can change his mind. 

“I’m sorry I was- I hope you had fun today,” Thomas finally forces out. 

Newt watches Thomas as he fidgets around nervously, uncomfortably, his face unreadable. Finally he responds, “Would’ve been more fun if you played with us,” which makes Thomas feel worse. 

He finally lays down, puts his head on Newt’s pillow, tries to will himself not to run away. “I didn’t think you noticed,” he mumbles, looking at the shadows on the wall, looking anywhere but at Newt. 

Newt sighs again, and Thomas wriggles around a little bit more. The silence that follows stretches on and on, a tangible silence that presses down on Thomas’ chest and makes it hard to breath. When he finally decides that Newt isn’t going to say anything, he moves to get up, but a second before he hops off the bed, Newt catches his wrist. 

Newt had a growth spurt this year, putting him at a good couple inches taller than Thomas, and he hardly notices it anymore, except for now, as Newt pulls Thomas back into his bed, wraps his arms around him, and tucks him under his chin. 

“I’m sorry,” Thomas mumbles again, into Newt’s throat, but Newt just pulls him closer. 

•••

Alby, Minho, Newt, and Thomas start exploring the headquarters by night. Minho had realized a while back that they stopped locking the doors, and although it took a few days of convincing, he finally gets Newt to agree to come with him. Once Newt agrees, everyone knows that Thomas will come too, considering the two are attached at the hip. Alby tags along to keep the three in line. He doesn’t want them to get caught. 

They slink through the corridors once a week, long after they should have been asleep. Whenever they separate from each other, they agree to meet up in a seemingly abandoned maintenance closet. 

They make up games and play until it gets to be a few hours from wake-up time, and then they go back to their beds and catch what little sleep they can. 

Some part of Thomas always thinks that he should invite Teresa to join them, especially since he knows that they’re constantly being watched and that Teresa probably knows that he and his friends sneak out all night to play games when they should be resting, but there is a selfish part of his brain that doesn’t want to share his friends with anyone else, and so he can never bring himself to ask her. 

**(age 12)**

When Thomas turns 12, he gets pulled out of his new home to attend some meetings and talk with the adults about his progress. They are impressed with him; they talk about how proud they are that he has bonded so well with the others. 

Thomas doesn’t want their praise- he’s made friends for him, not for them- but he bites his tongue anyway. 

Later, he gets to hang out with Teresa. She walks him back to his room and tells him in a hushed whisper about how roughly half of the boys Thomas calls his friends are not immune; she says she knows which ones are not, but is under strict orders not to tell him. 

It makes his head spin, knowing that some of his friends could make it if their project fails, while other ones could...could- Thomas shakes his head, clearing out the thoughts. They would not fail. He says goodbye to Teresa and sprints the rest of the way through the halls, back to his friends, back to his home.

When Thomas gets back inside, he goes straight to bed instead of dinner like he should. When he wakes up some time later, it is because Newt is climbing into his bed, in much the same fashion as they had almost every night since the first time. The bed is getting a little too small to hold them both, but they tangle their arms and limbs and neither of them really mind. 

Thomas especially doesn’t mind, but he tries not to read into it too much. _It’s normal for two friends to share a bed,_ Thomas thinks. _It doesn’t mean anything._

•••

Thomas and Minho step up to the starting line. 

“See you at the finish line,” Minho says with a smirk. 

“Of course you will; I’ll have already set up a celebratory picnic by the time you get there.” Thomas smiles back, meeting Newt’s gaze and giving him a wink. The confident smile and nod he gets in return makes his heart race. Just pre-race nerves, nothing else. Usually Newt joins these races, but he always wins, so today he wants to give Minho and Thomas a fair race. 

“Ready boys?” Alby asks. They both nod. “Ready, set, GO,” Alby shouts, and jumps out of the way. Both the boys take off through the clearing. 

The other boys run with them, trying to get to the finish line, where Gally waits to fairly judge the winner. It’ll be close; it’s always close, although Thomas never wins.

Thomas pulls ahead for a few seconds, then Minho pulls ahead, and then they’re neck-and-neck, and then they’ve crossed the finish line. 

Gally looks angrier than usual as all the boys have caught up to them, eagerly waiting for Gally to spit out the name of the winner. 

“Somehow, it’s Thomas.” 

All the boys crowd around Thomas, congratulating him, patting him on the shoulder, the back, and Thomas has never felt more part of this group than now. 

And then Newt is in front of him, wrapping his arms around Thomas to spin him around in a circle, laughing, overjoyed. As the boys start to disperse, back to their own corners and games, and Minho follows Gally, protesting very loudly that there must have been a mistake, Newt says in his ear, “Congratulations, Tommy. I knew you could do it!” His warm breath and close proximity makes Thomas shiver.

This is when Thomas becomes positive that either he likes Newt more than he likes the rest of them, or he likes Newt more than the rest of them do. He’s not sure the clarification matters too much.

•••

They sleep in the same bed every night, even though it’s a little too small, even though they’re just friends. Thomas convinced himself that it’s normal for friends to be like this, even though he’s never seen any of his other friends act this way. 

It doesn’t matter that it makes his heart flutter when Newt laughs; it’s normal. 

•••

He starts getting pulled out by the adults once a week, then once every three days, then once a day. He gets told that they’re speeding up the phases; Thomas only has two years left with his friends before he must be separated, before the first boys go into the maze. 

Thomas feels like he could cry, even more so when Teresa doesn’t understand why he’s upset. 

“Tom, everything is going exactly as planned. You’ve done an excellent job,” she says. But what he hears is _you’ve doomed your friends to a life they don’t understand, and many of them could die._

Thomas spends the next two hours dry heaving in the boys shared bathroom. When he finally feels well enough to come out, Newt is sitting on the floor, back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. 

“That bad, huh?” Newt asks. 

Thomas feels his heart sink again as he turns heel and runs back in. _Yeah, Newt, it’s even worse than you think._

•••

A boy, who couldn’t possibly be more than 8 or 9, shows up around this time. His name is Charles, but they call him Chuck, and he instantly becomes the little brother they all once had or wanted. 

He plays games with the older boys when he can, and happily watches from the sidelines when he can’t, but the boys always, always make him feel welcome, included, and safe. 

**(age 13)**

Thomas can’t ask them to stop talking about the maze, but he can decide to stop participating in the conversations. Teresa lectures him about his behavior, but he doesn’t care anymore. He does the bare minimum; enough to keep him out of trouble, enough to keep the adults at bay. 

Finally, after one of their meetings, Teresa pulls him aside, into an empty office. 

“Tom, you must stop acting like this. They’ve noticed, Tom. And soon-” she sighs, pulling his hand to hold with both of hers. She tries to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at her. “Thomas.” This gets his attention, and his eyes snap up. She never uses his full name. 

She drops his hand and stands up, going over to the computer. She clicks around, and then calls him over. 

He makes his way over to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at the screen. At first, it doesn’t sink in, but then all of a sudden it clicks. 

“Teresa- is this what I think it is?” 

She nods, turning to assess his face while it clicks. 

The words start to blur in his head, numbers and letters and faces, and he feels sick again. He wants to cry, but he won’t. 

He feels his determination flood back through his veins; he needs to try harder. They have to succeed. His friends need him. 

•••

There’s less than a year before Thomas is pulled back out of Group A, before Thomas is forced to go observe his friends as they stumble through the maze.

Thomas is in no way, shape, or form ready for that moment. 

•••

Teresa had long since learned about the boys sneaking out, but had also stopped trying to help them since Dr. Paige blatantly told Thomas that, regardless of what measures they took, everyone still knew and was still watching them. 

This time, though, she had outdone herself to help him help his friend. 

Thomas counted in his head up to six, like he had rehearsed with Teresa time and time again over the last few days. He and Newt then dart across the hall, into an empty office. They leave the light off but click the door shut behind them. He counts to eight this time, the same pace as before, and then they check the hall quickly before they creep down it. 

They silently weave their way through, following the careful plan step by step, extremely carefully, until they get to the room. Identical to theirs, but on the other side of the compound. 

“Tommy, are you sure this is the one? We could always just go hang out in that office and then go...what if-” 

But Thomas cuts him off, shaking his head. They, and the other boys, had stayed up long after lights out more times than one, discussing the families they had lost, and the memories they retained. 

Newt remembered the sister they had taken from him. Lizzy then, but Sonya now. The girls trials were to be starting soon, a little sooner than the boys, if the rumors Thomas had heard were correct, so if he ever wanted to do this, it had to be now. 

“It’s fine, Newt. Come on.” And Thomas swings open the door. 

The reunion is much what Thomas had hoped. Lizzy, Sonya, remembers Newt just as well as Newt remembers her, and they cry while they hug each other and curse W.I.C.K.E.D. and everything it stands for. 

Thomas finds himself getting angry, so absolutely angry, at the adults who did this to them, at the adults who took it upon themselves to take all these children from their homes and families and separate them, rename them, and all but erase their past. 

As moving as the whole thing is, Thomas gets so angry that he needs to stand in the hallway to wait, until it’s time to break them up and head back. 

Newt sniffles a little all the way there, but he presses his hand into Thomas’. They walk back slowly, no need to slink and hide, because if they get caught they had already completed the mission for the night. 

Thomas is hyper-aware of the other boy’s hand in his own. He feels as if every nerve in his body has relocated itself into his hand. He can feel his face flush with a pink-ish hue at the thought, and he hopes that the lights are dim enough that Newt doesn’t notice. 

When they get back to their room, Newt stops him from opening the door by intercepting his hand. They stand in the hallway like that for a few seconds, with Newt holding both of Thomas’ hands in his own, before a shy smile spreads across Newt’s face. His eyes hold more gratitude than Thomas thinks Newt knows what to do with or how to express. 

His cheeks are still a little wet, and he still has a tiny sniffle, but as he leans over to press a kiss to Thomas’ cheek and whisper, “Thank you, Tommy,” Thomas isn’t sure that the moment could have gotten any more perfect. 

•••

“So have you told him?” Alby asks from where he’s leaning against the wall, watching Thomas as he paces back and forth.

Alby was supposed to be in class with the other boys, so when Thomas got back from his work with Teresa, the room should have been empty for him to stress in peace.

They had completed their work on the maze today, and were told that they were free to do as they pleased for the next few months until they deemed the maze ready and started the trials.

“Did I tell who what?” He mumbles, annoyed at the turn of events. He should be alone; he needs to figure out how to tell his friends that when the trials start, he will be pulled out of his room, reisolated, instead of going with them. 

Alby doesn’t respond. The silence stretches on for so long that Thomas finally stops his pacing to look at him. Alby has this grin on his face that would make Minho proud. 

“Did I tell _who, what_ Alby?” 

Alby’s smile changes from wicked to sickly sweet. “I was just wondering if you told him you liked him, is all.” 

Thomas raises his eyebrows, trying to understand what Alby is saying to him. He heard what he said, but he feels like the words went in one ear and out the other. He’s turning them over and over in his head, wondering why they won’t make sense. 

“Tell...who?” He repeats instead, feeling like an idiot. 

“It’s just obvious, is all, and it doesn’t bother any of us,” Alby shrugs, and his smile becomes a little more genuine. “He probably knows, but you could tell him. It eats at him as much as you, ya know.” Alby shrugs again, and Thomas feels like the world is crashing in on him. _He...knows?_

Thomas has always been clumsy, and with all the praise and predictions of how smart he was as a child, Thomas doesn’t think they could have accurately predicted how absolutely oblivious and stupid his teenage self had become. “I just...well...that’s not- they expect me to like- but I don’t- and then- well-” Thomas shakes his head as if to shake all his thoughts out of them. “No.” 

Alby raises a single eyebrow and lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “No?” 

“No. Whatever you think you know, you don’t. I’m not supposed to feel this way, and even if it’s true that I do, Newt doesn’t-” 

But it was too late. Thomas hadn’t caught himself in time. Alby was just teasing him, and he hadn’t caught on, and now he was going to tell. 

“I knew it! Minho, you can come out now.” Minho tumbled out of the closet that they shared, a wicked smirk on his face. 

Thomas wishes the universe would open up and swallow him whole. 

“We knew it, you mean! Wait ‘til the boys hear this one. We’ve placed bets!” Minho laughs, and Thomas has never hated his friends more. Suddenly they both start laughing. “You should see your face,” Minho chokes out.

“We’re joking, man. Chill.” Thomas lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at Alby’s words. “He really does know, though. You’re not exactly subtle. It’s alright, Thomas. You’ll figure it out.” 

Thomas opens his mouth, but he can’t get any words out. By the time he’s thought of a retort, both the boys have left, and he finds himself alone. 

For the first time all afternoon, he doesn’t want to be.

•••

Newt sprains his ankle while he and Minho are racing one afternoon. His ankle just rolls, and he goes crashing down, scraping his hands. He curls up into a ball, whimpering. Although the boys nervously crowd around him, they part to let Thomas through. 

He helps Newt up, giving him as much support as he can to help him hobble the distance to the bathroom, where Thomas can wrap his ankle and dress his wounds. 

He stays quiet, just watching Thomas without a word, just letting him play doctor like he knows he must. 

“You should probably have this looked at, but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble,” Thomas mumbles, wrapping the ankle up as best he can. 

The boys had all snuck out for Newt’s birthday earlier that month and stolen a bottle of whiskey; they were caught roughhousing in the hallway, somewhere between tipsy and drunk, and been told this was their last strike. It was Newt’s fifteenth birthday, though, so it had been worth it. 

“You’ll limp for a little while, but I don’t think it’ll be permanent...probably...” Thomas trails off, looking away as he presses a peroxide-soaked cloth to the peeling skin of Newt’s hand and hears the flesh hiss and sizzle. 

“Thank you,” Newt says, and Thomas can hear the genuine smile in his voice. He turns to look, to indulge himself that brief second of escape, and regrets it when he sees how serious Newt’s eyes are. He wants to look away again, but he can’t.

“Tommy, do you remember your first day here?” Thomas nods, hesitantly, not sure if he’s asking about his first day in the compound or his first day with Group A, but he remembers every second of both either way. “You had this look on your face, as if you had known everything about every one of us but couldn’t have predicted that we had personalities and were real people, and from the second you said something unrehearsed I knew you were going to be just as special as they promised you were.” 

Thomas closes his eyes, wondering why he suddenly felt like his mouth was full of cotton. Four months left. Only four months left with his best friend. Newt pulls his hands out of Thomas’ grip and pulls Thomas closer. 

Thomas doesn’t move, in fact, he hardly breathes, and that’s all the permission Newt needs to lean down and press their lips together. 

•••

They become painfully obvious, but they only have two months left. Thomas is so acutely aware of the fact that their time is running out, and even though the boys don’t officially know their entry date, they can tell it’s starting to get close. 

None of the boys tease them like Thomas thought they would; they understand wanting something to hold on to. 

**(age 14)**

Teresa watches Thomas carefully as he fidgets uncomfortably throughout their whole meeting. 

_What’s got you so worked up, Tom?_ Teresa’s voice in his head once surprised him, but now it was second nature.

There’s a stack of paper being passed around that details the list of people to be sent into the maze. _You didn’t tell me this was happening today,_ he responds. His knee is bouncing up and down below the table. He plays with a pen in front of him, takes a paper when it’s his turn, flips it over and starts to doodle on the back. 

_It was in the email they sent around. You told me you read it._

He sighs. _I did_ , he sends back half-heartedly before he blocks her off. He doesn’t need a lecture right now. He needs to go back in time, refuse to be integrated into Group A, and keep his distance. Play his part, but not get attached. 

When the meeting is over, he steps out into the hallway and quickly strides over to the maintenance room he and his friends once hung out in. He locks the door behind him, and finally musters the strength to pull the folded up paper out of his pocket. 

He scans the list fast. Everyone he expected to be there was. All of his best friends, including Newt, would be entering the maze in the first round.

He sinks to the floor and puts his head in his hands, unable to think straight. He had to save his friends, but he didn’t think doing it W.I.C.K.E.D.’s way was actually saving them. 

•••

Thomas knows for certain now that they’re not really outside, but he considers this space a small space haven where he and his friends can just have fun. The reality and horror of the made melts away, just for a few seconds, and they get to carry those memories with them wherever they walk after. 

Thomas has convinced the Psychs to let them stay “outside” overnight. He doesn’t tell the others that it’s fake, but instead just lays with his head next to Newt’s in the grass as they look up at the stars. He can hear his friends shouts from where they lay, but he doesn’t want to look away from the sky. 

He’s never bothered to remember any of the names of the constellations, but it doesn’t surprise him that Newt knows a few. He points them out to Thomas, and Thomas quietly repeats the name of each. 

When they run out of constellations that they know, Thomas points at a bright star that has a smaller, less bright star next to it. 

“You see those?” He asks. Newt hums in agreement. “That’s Alby, and the little one right next to it is Chuck.”

Thomas turns his head, then, just in time to glimpse the smile that spreads across Newt’s face. “Okay...what about...that one.” Thomas follows where Newt points with his finger. He thinks he knows which one Newt is talking about, so he nods his head. “That’s Minho.” 

Thomas smiles, liking their new little game. They each take turns pointing out specific stars, or tiny groups, and naming them after their friends. 

Thomas points out the brightest star he can see, one he’d been saving. “I’ve been saving the best for last, the brightest star in the sky. You’d be that one.” 

Newt reaches over and tangled their fingers together. Thomas doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling, something big and genuine and only for Thomas. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Tommy. We can’t both be that star, and it’s definitely yours.” 

Thomas feels some kind of hope settle deep within him, right around the corner from where his growing sadness resides. He knows they’re running out of time, but he hopes that when this is all over, Newt will forgive him for the role he had played in helping W.I.C.K.E.D., and they will spend countless hours under the expanse of the night sky, pointing out their friends and falling in love with their new life.

•••

The night before the maze trials are to begin, Thomas sneaks Newt out to an empty office, where they lay together on the couch. The boys were told that morning that the first group would be put into the maze tomorrow afternoon, after their final tests. 

No list of names was released, which Thomas was both thankful for and resented. 

He holds Newt a little tighter. “I have to tell you something, but you aren’t going to like it.” 

Newt sighs, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Thomas. “You’re not coming with us, are you?” Thomas’ face contorts with surprise, but he shakes his head. Newt nods a little, studying Thomas for a minute before putting his head down again. “You’re right; I’m not happy, but I understand.” 

Thomas kisses the top of his head and feels his anger and sadness swell up in his chest. “I’ll be rooting for you the entire time.” 

•••

Thomas stays in his room all day, refusing to eat, refusing to do anything but stare at the wall of his old room, where he once again lives, and try not to cry. 

Teresa comes for him the next morning, drags him out of bed and down the hall, and forces him to sit down in a chair in front of a large monitor. She turns it on, and he sees all of his friends, lost, confused, and afraid. 

“What- why are they acting like that?” 

Teresa gives him a sad smile. “They took away their memories, everything but their name.” 

Thomas refuses to tear his eyes away from the screen. 

•••

Everything goes as planned, for the most part. There were a few bumps in the beginning, but Thomas has since learned that they were part of the plan. 

Thomas has a new routine. Every morning he gets up, eats breakfast, and goes right to the monitoring room. He watches, listens, and grieves until it’s almost lights out. Then, he returns to his room to go to sleep and start the cycle over again. 

Every time one of his friends gets hurt or dies, he scratches another line in his bedframe. He refuses to forget; later, he will make W.I.C.K.E.D. pay for every life they negatively impacted.

**(age 15)**

Thomas is standing in the middle of the room, his hand pressed over his mouth, wishing he would have never helped them build this awful maze. Newt had entered the maze with determination, assessing the walls all the while, and then he had started climbing. 

As he watches his friend, his love, climb higher and higher, periodically checking his distance from the ground, Thomas had a moment of revelation. Thomas would be sent into the maze within the year. If Newt was to die in there, right now, Thomas would never even make it into the maze. And once his mess of a life was over, he would meet Icarus in the afterlife, and they would share a moment of silence and understanding, knowing that they had both flown too close to the sun. 

He watches as Newt releases his hold and falls backwards to his almost certain death. Something deep within him forces him to turn his head away right before Newt hits the ground. 

“You’re not even immune, man,” he says so quietly it’s almost a whisper as he angrily shakes his head. 

•••

Newt lives, but that limp that Thomas once thought he prevented has now become permanent, and Newt is no longer a runner.

Thomas becomes an empty shell. All of his emotions have left him completely, leaving him sure of one thing alone. 

Every time he sees Dr. Paige, or anyone really, he says the same three words. Always the same three words. 

“Send me in.” 

•••

“Tom, are you sure?” Teresa’s voice is colored with concern, but Thomas doesn’t let it reach him. 

“I’m sure. Send me in.” 

She nods, slowly, quietly. “Okay, Tom. You know the drill.” 

He closes his eyes as he leans back in the chair, with nothing but Newt on his mind. I’m coming to break you out. 

**(age 16)**

Thomas’ eyes blink open. He can hardly see anything, and he has no idea where he is. 

As he sits up and tries to grasp his surroundings, whatever he is in grumbles to life, rattling and shaking. Thomas can feel himself hurtling upwards at an astonishing speed. 

The thing jolts to a stop. Thomas can see, now, the giant metal box he is in. Why can’t he remember how he got here?

The box opens, one side at a time, and then Thomas sees all the boys surrounding it. 

They’re all laughing, at him, Thomas thinks, and as grateful as he was for the box to stop moving, he really wishes that it would close back up and carrying him back down into the earth. 

“Name’s Newt, Greenie,” a tall blonde boy says, extending his hand down to help pull him out. 

His face seems kind, genuine in a way that the others don’t, and Thomas knows that even if he’s unsure about the others, this boy is one that can be trusted. 

So he reaches up, and takes the hand extended to him, and as the boy helps heave him out of the box, Thomas wonders at the familiarity of the boy. 

He can’t remember anything apart from his own name, but he commits this new name to memory. 

“Newt,” Thomas repeats. The grin the boy gives him in return is practically blinding. 


End file.
